


Wither and Bloom

by minkhollow



Category: Persona 3, Persona 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkhollow/pseuds/minkhollow
Summary: Haru sorts through some mail. (Spoilers through early October for P5.)





	Wither and Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> The thing about Atlus saying all the Persona games are in the same continuity is that the survivors of the previous 'weird shit overruns city' incidents wouldn't _not_ take an interest. This is a theme I want to explore further, but I haven't quite finished P5 yet; for now, though, two characters with a lot in common establish contact.

The house is too big, too empty, and yet positively stifling at the same time. All of Haru’s planters are at school, so she can’t fall back on them right now, as much as a little gardening would probably help her get centered again now that her world’s been knocked utterly sideways.

She was sure they’d gotten through to him. She was sure he’d change just like the others. She doesn’t know what went wrong (and she’s relieved her new teammates – friends, she still hopes – don’t know either, and didn’t know what had happened to the principal).

It’s not even noon and she’s hung up on her fiancé five times already.

For lack of anything better to do, she wanders into her father’s study and sits at the desk, staring at the mountain of mail. Had all this really come in only the last two days? How is she supposed to deal with it? Her father had always intended to hand the company off to someone else, even if he’d never settled on who; Haru has absolutely no business training, or the faintest idea of where to start with being a majority shareholder.

Most of the mail is condolence letters, with enough money to fulfill traditional obligations without looking unseemly. It’s not as though she needs any of it, nor the empty regrets for her loss that come with it. Maybe she’ll look into donating all of this, or sorting out some kind of fund for her father’s wronged employees. It would be just, and in his last moments, if no other time, what he would have wanted.

Then she opens a condolence envelope and drops the check inside almost as soon as she reads it. _Three million yen_? Who would have that much to hand to drop on what she’s almost positive is a perfect stranger? Haru fumbles for the outer envelope, in the hopes that the return address will help explain it, but there’s no name, and she doesn’t know anyone in Iwatodai, so it just leaves her more confused.

With shaking hands, she unfolds the letter that was in the condolence envelope alongside the check, and the letterhead makes things a little clearer.

_Okumura-san:_

_My heartfelt condolences on the loss of your father. While I cannot pretend to know anything about your personal relationship, I lost my own in a similarly dramatic fashion when I was your age; the sensation of the story tends to overshadow the grief of those left behind. I realise you will probably find the condolence check extravagant, but I wanted to make it clear that you have support, even if it may be difficult to see._

_You have been thrust into a leadership role that very few people have a similar frame of reference for. If there is any way I can assist in this difficult time of transition, or any mystery surrounding your loss that I can help put to rest, do not hesitate to let me know._

_Kirijo Mitsuru_

Haru had, of course, heard about the Kirijo Group CEO’s sudden death, back when she was in elementary school; she had no idea his daughter had taken the reins of the company, but then, she never expected to be neck-deep and drowning fast in the business world, so she didn’t pay much attention to things like who runs what company. Besides, the Kirijo family makes its money in electronics, not food processing.

It never occurred to her that someone else out there might have such a similar experience, and the thought almost makes her start crying again.

On her third reread of the letter, one line jumps out at Haru. ‘Or any mystery surrounding your loss that I can help put to rest’ – what could Mitsuru possibly mean by that? It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing someone offering simple business guidance would say offhand, even if the rest of her offer rings truer to Haru than most of the ones she’s heard lately.

Does she suspect there’s more to the mental shutdowns than meets the eye? What could possibly have led her to that conclusion? And if so, how exactly _would_ Haru go about mentioning that? ‘I tried to change my father’s heart and all I got was his messy, live-televised death’?

Maybe she should talk to Makoto about it. Of the Phantom Thieves, she’s easily the one with the most relevant experience toward answering this sort of letter – and even if she doesn’t go into the full story, Haru definitely intends to reply. Makoto can help her figure out what that cryptic line might mean, and how, or if, to address it. For now, though, she’s better off pondering the mystery of what to have for lunch.

She’s thrown out most of the condolence letters, with the checks and occasional cash in a neat pile to take to the bank later; this letter, though, she folds and puts in her pocket.

Right now, she needs to draw strength from knowing she’s not alone.


End file.
